


Brothers in Arms

by Rimu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, House Lannister, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Other, Trial by Combat, Westeros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rimu/pseuds/Rimu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrion Lannister has been accused of treason against the crown for his rumoured hand  in the fiendish conspiracy to murder the late King Joffrey Baratheon and has thus been branded a kin slayer, knowing he will receive no justice he gambles his life on a trial by combat. </p>
<p>Cersei demonstrating her effortless penchant for cruelty nominates Ser Gregor Clegane as her champion leaving Tyrion with little recall, for none of able wit would dare to face the monstrous mountain...none other than Tyrion's own flesh and blood his brother Jaime "Kingslayer"  Lannister rises to champion his brothers innocence.</p>
<p>An alternate retelling of the memorable trial by combat from A Storm of Swords only with Jaime filling Oberyn's boot's, this time around he enters the fray with both hands in tack and brandishing his trusty valyrian  steel sword "Oathkeeper".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers in Arms

“You're a bloody fool you know, honestly what in the seven hells possessed you to agree to such a stupid, cockeyed thing.” Tyrion remarked unsparingly as he positioned himself on his brittle wooden stool that was several times to large for the poor half-man.

The day was nigh his trial by combat was looming mere hours from realization, it made him sick his stomach churning at the very notion that this indeed could be his last day, his final hours as it were. Stubbornly he demanded a trial by combat a final spit in the face of his father, sister and all who so willing turned heel against him.

Of course a cruel turn of events had taken place, his lovely sister in a typically warm-hearted fashion only siblings can impart, see for she had opted to cause the worst possible scenario, for her champion was the one and only Ser Gregor Clegane, the mountain who rides.

A fearsome brute of a man whose ostensibly matchless strength was only surpassed by his limitless capacity for indiscriminate savagery, men or woman, child or infant it mattered not to the mountain. 

Everyone and their whore mothers knew that facing him in battle was a fools errand, none stirred the mountain and lived to tell tale of the encounter, who than would risk facing a creature more animal than man in the name of someone else. 

Speaking in earnest he might ought have cut his own throat for the end result was surely the same, than a most unexpected turn of events transpired astonishing even Tyrion with his less than optimistic disposition. 

“ No one is questioning the foolishness of my judgement, Regardless I stand by it. You develop a tendency towards doing absurd illogical things in the name of love, wouldn't you say dear brother?” Jaime retorted in the sardonic way only he could express. 

Ser Jaime Lannister, Tyrion's elder brother known through the land as the “Kingslayer”, the spiritless and debauched excuse for a man who skewered the mad king during the war of the usurper all while in service amongst his kings guard, his most trusted shield.

The two leered at each other both reflecting on the others tenacious tendency towards the making of poor life choices, “ Are you willing to stand there against the wishes of our father and sister, will you really forsake them in favour of me your monstrous excuse for a little brother?”

Tyrion's oversized head lowered as his stomach stirred sick and brimful with acid and bile biding it's time, ready and waiting till the moment of execution so it might all burst free all in one sitting. 

“Are you truly...”

“Am I truly...what....” Jaime questioned his voice unmistakably sincere and reeking with curiosity.  
Tyrion inhaled deeply before answering his brothers probing inquiries. “Are you truly willing to stand against Cersei, are you willing to throw your damned life away to that hulking beast?”

Jaime arose to his feet and began walking towards Tyrion a few steps was all it took to close the gap, then there he stood towering inexorably over his withered trembling little brother. 

“I'm going to tell you a story, a most crucial story so for once in your god forsaken life you're going to shut that mouth of yours and listen, no witty remarks or snarly commentary, just silence you got that.”

Tyrion nodded without a word his eyes growing wide as curiosity shone a vibrant light in a sea of blackest fear and disquiet.

“Countless years ago when I was but a fledgling I road with the forces of King Ayres II in answer to the ever growing threat of the “Kingswood Brotherhood”, a flock of shit eating cunts masked as scoundrels. 

Their were many strong and praised swordsmen in our garrison non more so then “The Sword of the Morning” Ser Arthur Dayne himself. In one of the skirmishes, god I can't remember which their were quite a few, it's a blur really.

Lord Sumner Crakehall had found himself in a bit of pinch with old “Big Belly” Ben a hefty warrior of the brotherhood, until I showed up and cleaved his head from his fleshy shoulders, he was strong man big, fat and ugly too.

He was nothing, the big kicker comes in here, the ill-famed smiling knight, a man who was in love with lunacy, he embraced it, reveled in it...he would have fucked it if he were able. He was indeed the Gregor Clegane of his time a giant mesh of muscle, blood and bone, steel and madness all jumbled together

I watched from afar as he slice dozens of men showing not the faintest sign of breaking even the slimmest sweat, many fled seeing what awaited them one could hardly blame them, I on the other hand choose to do the opposite.

I walked with pride marching against him, my majestic sword unsheathed it's silvery blade marred and painted a dashing crimson having bathed in the blood of my fallen foes. The smileing knight pivoted casting his whole attention towards me like a canine with a powerless prey's scent fresh filled in it's nostrils.

I was a talented young swordsmen or so I’d been led to believe, though in this moment I was only sure of one thing, it was either going to be me or him but one of us were going to die that day. 

His face spun his signature smirk squirming into all manner of twisted shapes as he sized me up, he was taller, wider and stronger, he was upon quick observance superiror to me in every way conceivable.

The god's granted me three weapons to slay the mad dog.

The first was my natural swiftness and nimble feet, I was able to lure the knight into compromising positions with tricky faints fleet as lightning the second was my warrior's instinct it granted me the luxury of foreseeing and shielding myself against the smiling knights manic onrush.

The third and final blessing was my unflappable will to outlast and survive the hellish war I was fighting in, I wasn't going to die a nameless corpse in the midst of some piss painted forest, I was a Lannister and I was bound to return basking in glory or not at all. 

Our blades clashed skirting one another as the screeching scream of steel against steel vibrated strongly through our ears, I found myself outclassed in strength though still I refused to yield, I eluded his strikes, parrying and weaving, slashing frenziedly at his exposed skin where ever able.

Though bruised and bloodied the smiling knights smile would not diminish, he seemed to find pleasure in blood and pain and all things dark, The madman readied his hulking blade and lunged at me with peerless killing intent. 

Not content being a nameless corpse for the rest of my life I did all that could,I readied my charged headlong towards my imminent demise, in the blink of an eye we had found ourselves mere inches from each other, his gargantuan sword falling upon my head with the all the fury of a thousand storms.

My body moved of it's own accord I side stepped narrowly avoiding his rusty great sword than instinctively I thrust my sword upwardly towards the night sky with all the might my young body could muster.   
I felt a watery substance splatter my face and chest, it was the blood of the smiling knight my blade had found his way clean through his head the tip of the blade poking out the top was just in sight.

I struggled and the sword eventually came free as the once indomitable adversary collapsed to the floor with the most strident thumping I’d ever heard, his blood oozed and poured soaking my armored feet.

I stood still and silent reveling in the glory of slaying a man said to be unassailable knowing that the shit died and that my blade had a hand in the deed filled me with an indescribable feeling... I think they call bliss.

Once Ser Arthur Dayne arrived on the scene he deemed me of worth and knighted me on the spot for my servitude, no longer was I just Jaime Lannister the prestigious son of lord Tywin Lannister, I was a Ser a knight admired and reviled in equal measure. 

The point to my story is this I am Ser Jaime Lannister, The Kingslayer. I have been ending the lives of supposedly invincible men and women for decades now. I will enter that god forsaken arena to the roar of the crowd and I will relish their silence when I leave the lifeless corpse of Gregor Clegane in plain sight for all to witness.”

The contours of Jaime's staggered face twisted into a sort of constrained simper, Tyrion knowing full well the words of his brother were spoken in truth, too oft had he heard accounts of that most glorious day of bloodshed. 

A fierce rattling at the door sounded as the dunce Ser Meryn Trant accompanied by a pair of equally dimwitted flunkies entered the room signalling the fated the time had arrived. “ It's time, Lord Commander.” Ser Meryn mumbled his paunchy cheeks jiggling beneath his scruffy beard.

Jaime turned towards his brother his eyes brewing with fear not for himself but for the well-being of his flesh and blood, “Fear not little brother, Today is not the day we die.”

Tyrion gulped the faint remnant of tears swelling in his large soulful eyes, “And should the opposite prove true at the very least we'll be meeting the affectionate arms of death together I suppose.”

Jaime nodded wise to the fact that no words spoken could quell the storm of doubt raging inside his brothers mind and heart, he steeled himself knowing full well what should await him if he's able to conquer the mountain that lay before him

“ I'll see you on the battlefield, Try not to despair to deeply, it's most unbecoming..especially for those of us cursed with a name like “Lannister”. Jaime laughed sardonically before exiting, Ser Meryn and his grunts trailing behind like a litter of straying pups.

The departure of Jaime had left a morose Tyrion to his sullen pondering's, would this be the hour of his final breath, could his brother truly best the mountain....Why did he struggle, why expend his life on an individual so foreordained for death.


End file.
